


You Should Be Enough

by CaptainMikeShelbyMiller



Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMikeShelbyMiller/pseuds/CaptainMikeShelbyMiller
Summary: His phone used to vibrate nonstop when he would go out.Now it vibrates once every two hours, like clockwork.Every time it is a text from Seth.I love you.Be safe.





	You Should Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So I wanted angst. So I wrote it. I have no plans for this fic, it'll probably get another chapter or two, but I have no idea tbh.

   


It's almost easy to forget that Stefon is a drug addict. He's bright, loving, attentive to a fault, and Seth's never known him to be anything but antsy and overzealous, so it never really registers that those are symptoms of drug addiction, and not just Stefon. During their time together on Weekend Update it was never a secret that he was high, or drunk, or both during every segment, but it also had never impeded the show.  
  
They've been married half a year now, and while Seth could honestly say he had no regrets, he did have some concerns. The one time he brings up Stefon's drug use, he laughs it off. Things like "If you come with me, you won't have to worry about me" and "If I go on like, a three day bender or something, then you can panic" are said with hollow humor, and it's the most un-Stefon like voice Seth has ever heard. The words are generic in a way Stefon never was, meant to make him feel better, but they have the opposite effect.   
  
Still, he never brings it up again. It's hard to start that conversation with him, too easy to forget the fear during the day, the two of them curled up on the couch watching tv after dinner, when everything feels right.   
  
And Stefon isn't stupid, by any means. He knows what his nightly escapades do to Seth, to their relationship, and sometimes he decides to give it all up, cold turkey. He signs up for all the support groups, flushes the drugs, gets rid of all the alcohol in the house, and for a week or two, ignores the needling itch in the back of his mind. The first time he tries, Seth is overbearing in his support, and desire to help, and it drives Stefon crazy. He lasts a week, then disappears the entire weekend. He's only listened to one of the many, many voicemails Seth left him during that weekend, and the memory of his husband's pleading should have been motivation enough to quit for real. It should have. He wanted it to be.   
  
It wasn't.   
  
The next time he decides to quit, he doesn't tell Seth. Doesn't want to face his disappointment (well hidden, if not for the fact the Stefon knows Seth like he knows the back of his hand) when- if, _if_ \- he fails again. He starts slow this time, cutting first alcohol, then going out, and finally, the drugs. The alcohol is rough at first, but is easier to go without as time goes on. Not going out is the easiest to stop doing- he does actually have a job, after all, and it's a simple matter of switching to the night shift. He still gets a taste of late night New York weirdness, working at a 24/7 coffee shop. 

 

But the drugs.

  
He can't make himself throw them away like he had before. He stands in their bathroom, door locked even though Seth is fast asleep, hand held out over the toilet. He's sweating, the pills are beginning to dissolve in his grasp, and frustrated tears trail down his face. He can't let go, and instead dry swallows half of the sweat-sticky handful, before slipping away into the night after pressing a quick kiss to his still slumbering husband's temple; an apology. As the front door clicks shut he pretends not to hear Seth's groggy "Stefon?"   
  
That was hours ago. The drugs aren't doing their job tonight, but the last thing he wants to do right now is go home without the buffer of a high. So he plants himself at the bar, drinking whatever the enabalist bartender sets in front of him. The music doesn't register, and even though it's a new club, he has no interest in exploring its entertainment. He wants to be at home, in bed with Seth, Bark Ruffalo curled up between them like the cockblocker he was born to be. He wants Seth to stop giving him that look, all resigned concern, and undeserved love, and so painfully gentle.   
  
In his pocket his phone buzzes, and he doesn't have to check it to know exactly what it says. His phone used to vibrate nonstop when he would go out. Seth would call, he would get Shy to call, during that weekend long bender he’d even gotten calls from Amy, who Stefon knew Seth shared everything with. The constant calls petered down to regular texts, asking where Stefon was, or when he was coming home. Now it vibrates once every two hours, like clockwork. Every time it is a text from Seth.   
  
I love you.   
  
Be safe.


End file.
